


Myths of Damar

by misbegotten



Category: Damar Series - Robin McKinley
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-06
Updated: 2019-12-06
Packaged: 2021-02-27 00:20:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,055
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21698368
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/misbegotten/pseuds/misbegotten
Summary: In the peaceful years that followed, the myths of Damar continued to grow.
Relationships: Corlath/Harry Crewe
Comments: 18
Kudos: 99
Collections: Yuletide 2019





	Myths of Damar

**Author's Note:**

  * For [tehhumi](https://archiveofourown.org/users/tehhumi/gifts).



> Thank you to Kim and Diane for the beta. Happy Yuletide, tehhumi!

_...and the Queen of Damar had indicated in word and deed a sincere desire to forge a better understanding of Damarian history and custom. From such exchanges we might ensure continued peace in the region, thereby increasing the security of the Homelander Empire on this continent and prevent interruptions of profits from either the mines of the Ramid Mountain or the orange groves in the south._

**Excerpt from a dispatch from Sir Charles Greenough to the Queen and her Council, on diplomatic negotiations with the Royal Province of Daria**

*

Harry Crewe -- the Queen of Damar, Wizard Tamer, Hurler of Mountains, Damalur-sol -- finished reading aloud from the paper in her hand and chuckled. Jack Dedham accurately interpreted Harry's mirth and smiled.

"Charles is reminding Home that there is still money to be found in the hills and plains of Damar," Jack said dryly as he pulled on his pipe.

Behind them, stirring a pot at the hearth, Luthe let out a grumbling sigh. The fire, which had been burning steady, cowered. He sighed again, more gently this time, and coaxed the flame back to its former height.

Harry shot Luthe a fond glance and passed the paper to her husband Corlath, who sat beside her at the wooden table. They were a matched pair with their sunburnt skin, tall frames, and robes tied with colorful sashes. They might be mistaken for each other in the firelight except for the curve of Harry's belly, where their third child grew.

"Let the Outlanders worry about missing fresh orange juice, then," Harry said, her eyes twinkling with amusement. "And not, perhaps, that the Hillfolk will come to steal away their women."

Corlath flushed faintly and Harry's lips twitched. Even Jack, who held a healthy respect for the honor of Corlath's title, could not help a small smile at the Hill-king's rueful expression. Harry had long forgiven Corlath for kidnapping her from the uneasy place she had inhabited in Sir Charles' household. His _kelar_ \-- the touch of magic in the king's bloodline -- had called to hers, passed down to her from a great-great-grandmother of rank among the people of the Hills. It had, in fact, left him little choice but to whisk her away to her destiny.

Harry was not above teasing Corlath about it, though.

Jack cleared his throat and attempted to rescue Corlath. "I believe that particular fear is long abated. But myths of Damar do seem to have grown, even since you opened diplomatic negotiations," he admitted. "Harry, there are even whispers that you were a witch all along."

Jack said "witch" innocently, but intimations of an Outlander's careless use of it as an oath were obvious. Corlath's eyes flashed yellow, and Harry put out a hand to soothe it along his arm. "I'm sure it does little good that you insist on thinking of me as a Hurler of Mountains in capital letters," Harry said to Jack.

It was Dedham's turn to color and he busied himself with his pipe. "I am merely a desert-mad Homelander, my dear. And you are my adopted queen. If you do not want to be thought a witch, perhaps you should not leap the walls of garrisons as if they were nothing."

"It was one wall," Harry protested weakly. "They still speak of that?"

"No doubt," Luthe murmured from the hearth, speaking for the first time since Jack's arrival. "Do you not carry the Blue Sword and share the king's _kelar_? Does not the spirit of Lady Aerin travel with you? These Outlanders might well take you for a witch."

Corlath's ire had subsided as quickly as it came. "Perhaps all yellow-haired people are magical," he said mildly. Jack looked from Harry to Luthe and silently agreed. There was no one he would more likely classify as a witch than Luthe, around whom he was still not quite comfortable.

Luthe stirred his stew. "I have added enough potatoes even for you, Jack Dedham. But if you wish to eat, you might try to make your thoughts less pointed."

Jack sighed. "You are all witches," he complained. "For you can walk through walls, hurl mountains, read minds, and accurately predict the number of guests for dinner."

The others smiled at that, and harmony was restored. Jack set aside his pipe and rose to help Luthe with serving the stew. "What more stories do they tell of us?" Corlath asked as they passed bowls around the table.

Jack paused, trying to remember what bits of gossip he had gathered during his trip to Istan and Sir Charles and Lady Amelia's home. "You talk to your horses," he suggested.

Corlath made a dismissive noise. "Everyone talks to their horses."

"Not everyone has horses who answer back," Jack said, and Harry giggled at the thought of Hill horses chatting amiably with their riders.

"Long have I listened to the conversations between Corlath and Fireheart," she teased, referring to Corlath's red bay. "'Can we not stay out of the stone city one day longer?' Fireheart will complain and Corlath will soberly lecture him on the duties of the throne." In fact, they all knew that Corlath spent as little time as possible in the city. The Hill-king preferred to traverse the hills and plains with his Riders, visiting his people. Only in the rainy season did the royal household spend long periods in the city's stone walls.

"Yes, well, the Hillfolk's horses continue to be a marvel to Homelanders," Jack said peaceably. "It's little wonder that Homelanders think the horses can talk." Then, as they began to eat, he asked, "Where are the children?"

"Talking to the horses," Harry suggested.

"And the trees and the flowers," Corlath added. "And no doubt trying to splash in the Lake of Dreams."

Luthe paused for a moment, listening to something only he could hear. "Your little terrors are not, in fact, being terrible right now. But I will fetch them, for even those with inexhaustible energy must eat." He left with an air of gravity.

"And there goes the greatest myth of the myths of Damar," Harry declared as she put down her spoon. "The ancient and terrible magical being Luthe is, in fact, the best child minder one could ask for."

The peal of children's laughter that echoed back to them proved the truth of her words.


End file.
